Salvation in Darkness
by Xenopsyche
Summary: A seemingly pitiful Wood Elf is thrown onto a cart transporting Stormcloak Prisoners for execution by a Thalmor Justiciar party, headed by Elenwen herself. What in Tamriel is going on? The life of my Dragonborn, as told by those he meets in his journeys.
1. Ralof

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or make any claim to the Elder Scroll's universe, Skyrim or otherwise, or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by Bethesda. This is simply my interpretation of some events within the game universe.

**[AN: Hello all, and welcome to my story.**

**This is going to be yet another variation on the in-game events with my own background for my own Dragonborn. However, it will be told exclusively from the point of view of characters he interacts with, all written in hindsight.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter./AN]**

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I didn't know what to think when some of those damned elves stopped our convoy near the border. At first, I assumed they wanted to take Ulfric in for questioning, a fate surely worse than the execution the Imperials had planned for us, but then they tossed a bound and unconscious Wood Elf in front of me and fell in behind our Imperial guards.

It was a rare day you saw the Thalmor follow the Empire's lead in anything, but little did I know that it would be the smallest of the many strange occurrences that I would experience that day.

The elf had been stripped of all his possessions, leaving him with only an undergarment as protection against the vicious cold of Skyrim's mountains. What was left was a shivering mass of bone and sinew that looked smaller than most Nord children. It was hard to see what had interested the Thalmor in him in the first place, as he seemed quite harmless.

That impression, however, didn't last long after he woke up.

He awoke as we were beginning to approach Helgen, you remember how much time we spent there, visiting for trade and work when we were young? Well now it seemed that the Divines had decreed I was destined to end my life there as well. A violent coughing fit coming from near my feet alerted me to his awakening, and my impression of a weak, pitiful elf was shattered.

Orange-red eyes blazed back at mine beneath long, dark matted hair as he pushed himself off the ground and onto the bench of the tray, even though his arms and feet were both bound. A Blacksmith's arms and shoulders sat atop a body littered with scars, some old and some so fresh they still leaked blood. It was a collection any Nord would be proud of, and it was crowned by a long gash that ran down the left side of his jaw, old and deep, it's stark whiteness showing up clearly against his ashen skin. Old flecks of crimson war paint decorated the left-hand side of his face as well, making his baleful eyes stand out all the more.

Somehow, despite being clothed in nothing more than a loincloth, this elf appeared _dangerous_.

A quick glance towards Jaarl Ulfric confirmed he had the same impression. Still, a strange elf was hardly out first concern at the moment, as the cart rumbled to a stop in the town square, where the Headsman was waiting.

I had to watch three of my Battle-Siblings murdered in front of me, before an unearthly sound rolled over the snow covered peaks. Now you know we have lived in the shadow of The Throat of the World for our entire lives, so believe me when I say I had never heard a sound like it in all my years. Apparently, neither had any of Helgen's townsfolk either, as they seemed just as confused as I did. The sound must have spooked the elves though, because suddenly Elenwen herself, the Thalmor ambassador to Skyrim, is whispering in Tulius' ear and instead of another fellow Stormcloak being called to their end, the Wood Elf, Kiern, is brought to the block, forced to kneel in the still-warm blood of my friends.

Despite his bound limbs and pitiful appearance, the Thalmor present still took an unconscious step back as he stalked towards the block, and I again felt that strange trill of fear settle in my gut.

That sound came again, louder this time, and I knew it was no mere sound. It was a roar, a roar of a powerful creature, far greater than any troll or Giant. There was power and evil in that sound, the likes of which I hope I never encounter again, especially now that I know what caused it.

The proximity of the sound had set the Imperials on alert as well and I could see the archers on the nearby battlements looking wildly about; even the horses were panicking.

And then I saw it, a flash of black steel amongst the white clouds. And I wasn't the only one, gasps and cries escaped the lips of all who saw it. We watched in muted terror as the dark shape descended swiftly on the town, a single seep of its great wings allowing it to land on a nearby tower, the force of the landing or wing beat, I'm not sure, knocked everyone off their feet.

There was no time to admire the terrible creature, however, as with only a shout fire began to rain from the sky, striking the ground all around me, destroying all it touched.

I'm not sure what made me do it, maybe the fact that anyone those damned Thalmor fear had to be a useful ally, but as I staggered to my feet, I heaved the still-bound elf with me and into the nearest stone building.

Everything after that is something of a blur. It's all so fresh, I haven't had time to understand it yet; I'm still half hoping that this was all some strange and terrible dream.

Somehow, we escaped the dragon fire and Imperials, and so we stumbled out of a cave part way down the mountain, half frozen and coated in ash and blood, much like you found us when we arrived in Riverwood.

After that, well, you know everything that happened since we arrived, Gerdur; you saw him, Kiern, with your own eyes. He seems an honourable sort, I wouldn't be surprised to see him return in the next day with a contingent of Whiterun guards in tow and the Jaarl's blessing!

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**[AN: And there you have it. I've included a number of hints to Kiern's background and nature, and I will continue to tease them out over following chapters. If you want to take any guesses, feel free. The name wasn't picked randomly, either...**

**Anyway, the number of chapters I do will largely depend on how interesting you find this story, I've got a few planned, and I have a number more potential ones, but I have other stories to write and there's no point in filling up chapters with minor characters if no one actually wants to read it.**

**As such, feedback would be fantastic, particularly anything you think I could do better.**

**Thanks for reading! /AN]**


	2. Adrianne Avenicci

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or make any claim to the Elder Scroll's universe, Skyrim or otherwise, or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by Bethesda. This is simply my interpretation of some events within the game universe.

**[AN: Sorry for the wait, I hadn't intended to take this long, but when I posted this first chapter, I had believed that I had final fixed my game's love of crashing every 15 minutes.**

**Turns out I was wrong.**

**That sort of killed my desire to play the game and this story got forgotten somewhat.**

**But, I've remembered it once again and I always intended to finish this story, and so I will, it just likely won't feature regular, predictable updates...**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter, shorter than I'd like, but it's mainly background.**

**Also, I've added a simple piece of cover art, which should provide a hint as too Kiern's background. I'll update the image as I work on it./AN]**

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**Adrianne Avenicci:**

I still don't know what to make of that elf, though one thing's for sure, he knew his way around a forge.

Yesterday, I was coming down to the shop early, to finish that work on the Jarl's sword, you remember? Anyway, there he was, waiting near the tanning racks; put me on guard for a bit, too, I hadn't seen a new face in Whiterun since the Dragon rumours started flying, and he was definitely a new face. Besides, polite as he was, there's something about him that sends a chill up your spine.

He was wearing the most hodge-podge kit I've seen in a long time; some crude leather armour with a bit of chain-mail tacked on and lots of fur sticking out, but I guess Skyrim's a far cry from Valenwood, huh?

Anyway, the guy comes up and introduces himself, calls himself 'Kiern'(a pseudonym if ever I've heard one, but it's not my place to question what a man calls himself), and asks if he can use the forge; even offers to pay me for it. Now, I've never met a wood elf that knows which end of the hammer to hold so I was more than a little hesitant to let him anywhere near my equipment, but I said that if he could show me he knew what he was doing, then he could use it free of charge. I decided to go easy on him and asked him to make a simple iron dagger, and boy was I in for a surprise.

Two hours later and one of the best balanced iron daggers I've ever seen in my life is in my hand, he'd even managed to double bevel the blade; that's not something an amateur would even think of, let alone accomplish. After that I figured I could trust him around the forge and we spent most of the day working around each other, with him occasionally popping into the store and purchasing some materials. He was still working well into the night when I left, but he had already produced a fine Cyrodilic wooden recurve bow, a full quiver of hardened steel arrows, a large pack, a belt and bandolier set, and he was working on what looked like a pair of steel short-swords.

It's been a long time since I've had another smith working that forge with me, even if he was the quiet sort, and even longer since I've seen one use Cyrodilic designs, even if there was some distinct elvish influence in the blades. I was hoping he would be back today, it would have been interesting to discuss some ideas with him and maybe see what old Eorland would make of him, but it looks like he's moved on, just leaving a note asking that the skins he strung up on the tanning rack be kept until his return or until a week has passed, whichever comes first; he even left a small pouch of gold coins as thanks.

I guess we'll see if he makes it back, and if he does, he's welcome to the forge any time he sees fit.

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**[AN: Thanks for reading and I hope you've found it at least vaguely interesting or worth your time.**

**All feedback is great and, as much as I hate to resort to this, it does encourage us authors to write more.**

**Thanks for reading! /AN]**


	3. Jarl Balgruuf

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or make any claim to the Elder Scroll's universe, Skyrim or otherwise, or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by Bethesda. This is simply my interpretation of some events within the game universe.

**[AN: To make up for the painfully short last chapter and to actually get some plot movement happening, here's the first chapter from Jarl Balgruuf's perspective, now things start to get a bit more interesting. ****/AN]**

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**Jarl Balgruuf:**

Perhaps Farengar will be proven correct about this latest adventurer, the previous three are yet to return, and after two weeks only a fool would expect them to. Still, despite his arrogance, Farengar is rarely wrong, and he knows more about the trials of Bleakfalls Barrow than I; perhaps an elf's cunning will succeed where Nord strength has failed.

Irileth didn't much like him, but she is slow to trust at the best of times, and recent times certainly have not been the best, especially since he came to confirm the fearful rumours many have been telling us over the past days; a Dragon attacked Helgen, and razed it to the ground.

At least now Proventus will hopefully stop complaining about the lost trade from having the city locked down.

Still, the fact that this elf was the first refugee from Helgen to reach Whiterun, three days later, does not bode well; I fear that as he is the first, he may also be the last. He himself admitted he was an outsider to Skyrim and would have had no idea where to go if he had not been directed by the people of Riverwood, whereas the people of Helgen would have known they could find shelter and refuge here.

Regardless, we must now start preparing for the very real possibility of a dragon attack, a phrase I never thought I would utter. Dragonsreach is a fortress, designed to withstand the rage of a Dragon, but the rest of Whiterun is vulnerable, her walls are designed to stop besieging armies and the guards are more used to fighting off bandits and Frostbite spiders than a creature of legend.

Still, I have ordered Irileth to despatch guard contingents to the townships of this Hold and to recall the others patrolling the surrounding countryside; if a dragon does attack, we will need as many men as we can find. I will also ask the Harbinger if the Companions would be willing to fight, their bravery is a thing of legend and I doubt they would turn up the chance to fight the first dragon seen in Tamriel in millennia.

Now it just remains to see if Farengar's research will turn up anything that can help us.

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**Three Days Later...**

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To think, the Dragonborn, revealed to us first in defence of Whiterun… the Divines have surely blessed us this night.

And to think his first impression of my hospitality was Irileth threatening to gut him where he stood, merely three days ago!

Never did I think that I would see the Dragonborn in my lifetime, but I hadn't really imagined I would be seeing _Dragons_ either. Whether one is a response to the other, or if it is merely the strands of fate intersecting under the guidance of the Divines, I do not know, but I fear for what it means for Skyrim. And now with the Stormcloaks beating their shields louder every day and the Thalmor prowling roads and townships, the Empire is backed into a corner and I am concerned that war is coming to Skyrim, no matter the danger presented by the return of the dragons; it seems that everyone has forgotten they enslaved our ancestors in ages past and would happily do it again!

I wonder what Talos makes of this nonsense? I imagine he is laughing heartily at the fact that the first Dragonborn in two hundred years is an _elf_, a wood elf at that. Truly, I never believed Skyrim's greatest hero would be so short!

We had always imagined that the Dragonborn would be a Nord, tall and strong, fighting his foes head on and charging into the fray, great-sword raised high, but now we see that he is the furthest thing from that ideal, a blade in the dark that strikes before you ever become aware of his presence. Perhaps it is a message from the Divines, one that the people of Skyrim need to see and understand; my people's pride has grown without check since we helped beat back the Aldmeri Dominion during the Great War, and Ulfric's ravings of Nord supremacy are merely the most recent, dangerous peak.

With war brewing, dragons returning and tensions between races still festering, I fear for Skyrim; but perhaps this new Dragonborn can save us from more than just the winged beasts, if we're willing to listen.

I have decided to make the Drgonborn, Keirn, a Thane of Whiterun, in recognition of his service to this city. He did not need to assist Farengar and myself in retrieving the Dragonstone, he did not even need to warn us of the danger facing Riverwood or confirm the Dragon threat, yet he has done so without fuss or gold-lust. I was discussing possible Housecarl choices with Irileth and she recommended Lydia, a shield-maiden worthy of the Companions themselves. She was with the guard contingent that fought with the Dragonborn today and Irileth says she acquitted herself admirably against the beast, fighting with valour despite the quaking knees of some of her fellows. It will be a pity to lose her from our ranks, but her skill has always called her to grander things than a mere Hold Guard, and if she can assist the Dragonborn in his journeys, then all the better.

Tomorrow, once our Dragonborn has recovered, I will declare a day of celebration, to celebrate the victory over the dragon and to honour our new Thane. The feasting will be good for morale after the last few days of fear and trembling. Besides, it has been to long since we have had good news in Whiterun.

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**[AN: Again, it's not a huge chapter, but I don't think many of these will be, simply by virtue of the writing style. These chapters are summaries of events by characters, so most of the description and exposition that goes into a normal chapter will be missing. I always aim for at least 1000 words per chapter, but that's not always attainable, unfortunately. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading and hopefully understanding. I'll try to keep updates for this story at a reasonably regular pace, I just don't know if I'll succeed.**

**Thanks again, and please leave any feedback you have, it's great to hear from you all. /AN]**


	4. Master Arngeir

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or make any claim to the Elder Scroll's universe, Skyrim or otherwise, or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by Bethesda. This is simply my interpretation of some events within the game universe.

**[AN: And here's the next one. After this, it should hopefully be trending towards more insightful chapters, rather than the set-up ones we've had so far**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. ****/AN]**

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**Master Arngeir:**

It seems a new Dovahkiin has been revealed to us.

It is no surprise that their presence was discovered mere days after Alduin's return; we had been listening intently for a Thu'um that we had not helped shape and were overjoyed when we heard it ring out from the plains of Whiterun.

In truth, I have always imagined meeting a Dragonborn, a hero of might and legend, whose innate mastery of the Dragon Speech and their Thu'um is unmatched, even by myself and my fellow Greybeards. Truly, I did not believe that a new Dovahkiin would be raised up in my time, the death of Martin Septim seemingly heralding the end of the Dragon Blood; but it seems the Divines have seen fit to take mercy on this world as Alduin begins his purge.

All that is left now is to prepare for our guest and await their arrival.

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The Aedra have a sense of humour as well, it seems.

The Dovahkiin arrived today with his Housecarl and I admit, my immediate focus fell on the young Nord woman, rather than the cloaked Mer. She was a fine specimen of a Nord; tall and proud with strong features and battle scarred armour.

Surely, I thought, this was the Dovahkiin, for she could have stepped straight out of songs and legends of old.

It is only when I called the Dragonborn forward that I realised my initial assumption had been badly mistaken.

I was… sceptical, at first, when I saw that it was her elven companion that claimed to be Dovahkiin, but the raw power of his Thu'um left no doubt; with a single word of Power, _Fus_, he very nearly knocked me off my feet. And as if I needed any further proof, he mastered _Ro_ instantaneously, wielding the two words with a degree of skill usually gained only after years of practice and meditation.

I had always assumed that the old legends had exaggerated the Dragonborn's power, but now I am beginning to think that they did not do them justice.

The coming weeks will be interesting indeed.

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The Dovahkiin continues to learn rapidly, devoting himself to meditation and study while his Thu'um continues to grow in power and focus.

A matter of concern has arisen, however.

The power of the Thu'um is vast, and as the only mortal masters of the Way of the Voice, it the Greybeard's duty to ensure that it is used correctly and given only to those who would not abuse its power. Ulfric Stormcloak was an error in judgement on my part, and I am in no hurry to release another warmongering fool on Skyrim. It was my own naïveté that led to me instructing Ulfric, even though his anger burned bright and visibly, for I had assumed that he would seek to control that anger and use the Voice to worship the Divines, not plunge Skyrim into civil war!

Kiern wrestles with anger as well, though where Ulfric's was a burning fire, the Dovahkiin's is the cold steel of his blades; focused, lethal and unyielding. It is not my place to judge the Divine's instrument, as the Dragonborn has never been subject to the restrictions of the Way of the Voice, but I do fear what he will be capable of.

Even if I wished to, refusing to teach him further would do no good as he does not need my instruction to continue to learn and perfect his Thu'um. It is far better that I and my fellows continue to guide him towards the path of self-control and temperance, and hope that he will bet eh Hero he is destined to be, rather than another fool that will only hasten Tamriel's demise.

* * *

It is done.

The final task has been completed, the last portions of knowledge we can give has been imparted.

He has met with Paarthurnax and passed his tests, and he has retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, He has mastered every Thu'um, we have provided him with and he has survived the initiation.

He truly is Ysmir, Dragon of the North.

Only time will tell how he uses that power.


End file.
